


Day in Day Out

by BrotatochipDG



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Nightmares, Unrequited Love, brienne of tarth - Freeform, jaime lannister - Freeform, losing virginity, or maybe not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 13:23:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18592105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrotatochipDG/pseuds/BrotatochipDG
Summary: Brienne dreams she’s dying every night.It takes a toll.





	Day in Day Out

Brienne let out a large huff of air, expelling the breath from her lungs as forcefully as she could, wishing her memories worked the same way. She stood from the slight warmth the fur she slept in gave, and stretched her arms out wide, almost touching each side of the enormous tent. Dreaming was just another battle for her, now, instead of a relief from the days struggles.

Jaime’s beautiful mouth twisted, turning ugly (no, not ugly, he’d never been the ugly one, maybe just cruel) as he sneered down at her. 

“Get a grip, wench,” he spat at her, blood trickling down his chin and catching in his course stubble, “nobody could love that face, no matter the circumstances.”

Brienne stood, mouth gaping like a fish as she looked down at the large sword protruding from her stomach, piercing completely through her and slightly into Jaime. The sacrifice wasn’t enough to keep him unharmed, but hopefully enough to keep him alive.

Still, as he walked backwards off the blade with a grimace and a grunt of pain, he looked down at her with disdain. 

“Better to die here, in a way that won’t disgrace you further. You are a fine swordsman Brienne, but hardly a woman.”

She was almost glad to be dying, if only to rid herself of the embarrassment. She would have died easily for Renly, who would’ve been kinder in his revulsion towards her. She was still happy to die for Jaime, despite his mockery. 

Brienne does feel disgraced. But somehow not regretful, her dying breaths in a world where she died for a man she loved, even if he did not love her.

Uncomfortable that she seemed to have shed a few tears in her sleep, she licked her salty lips and rubbed at her face vigorously. Her eyes catch her reflection in her breastplate, and her ruddy face grew even more blotchy the more she rubbed at her cheeks.

With a final deep sigh, she tugged on the rest of her clothing and armor, attaching Oathkeeper to her hip and exiting the tent quite ungracefully.

Jaime and Pod were already sitting by a fire, and she was so startled that they were awake before her she let out a small girlish squeak.

The cocky Lannister lifted a brow, unwilling to let her misstep slide, and he let out a soft chuckle. 

“Quite feminine, wench. I’d almost mistake you for a lady, if I couldn’t see you standing here hulking in front of me.”  
Silently, Brienne pressed her lips together before speaking to Pod.

“Have you checked our traps from last night, Podrick? Or begun to pack? We should be on our way soon, it’s cool enough now to move for a few hours before the heat sets in.”

“Ser… My lady, are you feeling well enough to travel? You have never slept past me, and definitely not past Jaime. Have you fallen ill?” Podrick has never been unkind, but she could see him peeking glances at her discolored and ugly skin, likely blaming the pallor on an illness and not just her unfortunate looks.

Jaime laughed yet again, his voice lilting as he mocked her for the second time this morning. 

“Maybe she was up too late pleasuring herself to the visage of that great, burly stranger we crossed paths with yesterday. A match made by the gods, he was almost as ugly and almost as tall as she!”

Brienne felt pricks behind her eyes, and was astonished a wet drip managed to cling to her lashes before falling dramatically. It seemed today, her brutish body was overtaken by feminine noises and actions, and her hot face grew hotter in rage and shame.

The smile hanging on Jaime’s lips faltered and slipped into a soft frown as she turned back and awkwardly clambered into her tent, mumbling about gathering the rest of her belongings.

With a subtle glare directed at the Kingslayer, Pod went off to fetch the traps and gather the rest of his belongings as well. 

Jaime didn’t understand what in the seven hells had just happened, but he decided to ignore it for the sake of protecting Brienne from further embarrassment. An aspiring knight should not be seen crying, after all.

They rode on two horses with Podrick silently stepping behind Brienne, and the slow pace was excruciating. Usually, their day were filled with Jaime mocking both of his companions, with a rebuttal occasionally thrown his way. They’d never been a silent group, but this day they could’ve been mistaken for mutes.

Jaime peered at the giant of a woman, utterly confused and very troubled as to her mood. Steadily through the past few days she had seemed more tired and more put out. He’d assumed the journey was making her restless and that she was itching to draw her blade on someone other than Pod for early morning sparring.

The tears that had welled up in her brilliant blue eyes this morning spoke to a different trouble than he had thought.

Perhaps her moons blood was upon her, but Jaime had never noticed a change in her attitude before, and he’d been by her side through many months where she was more consistently uptight and prudish rather than once every month. 

Hours passed of silence, Brienne’s back rigid, Pod’s face in a permanent scowl, and Jaime’s demeanor grew further frustrated as the day went on.

“My gods, wench,” he blurted, “get some sleep. We’re stopping early today.”

Dismounting his horse in front of hers, he locked eyes with the angry woman in front of him. He knew they could’ve spent several more hours travelling, and it was better to do so in the cool of evening, but the crippled man couldn’t bring himself to care.

Brienne looked ready to protest, which Jaime would’ve been happy for if only for a reprieve from the silent treatment he’d been given, but she shut her lips tightly around her large teeth and threw her legs off the side of her horse, jumping down forcefully.

Pod got to making a fire and helping pitch Brienne’s tent before moving on to his, leaving a one handed Jaime to deal with his own, still forced to endure the loudest silence he’d ever heard.

Angrily, he threw his belongings on the ground and resigned himself to sleeping in the open before Brienne (still silently, the bloody wench) fixed his lodging upright and then promptly burrowed into her tent, solitary once more. 

Though he’d asked for the early night he was beginning to regret it, because sleep was nowhere close to over taking him by the time he’d settled down. Pod’s soft snores could be heard a distance away, but Brienne remained quiet as the dead.

Rubbing his left hand over his eyes, he groaned in frustration before leaving his tent and silently stalking over to the tent closest his.

Softly pulling back the opening and slipping inside, he realized she wasn’t being silent in her sleep after all. Her soft breathing was catching, a soft sob wracking her body in sleep. Brienne was never someone who could look small, or like one who needed protection, but Jaime felt a rush of possessiveness and fear upon seeing her lay broken and nearly weeping.

He slowly crouched near her sleeping form, almost reaching his stump out to her before catching himself and switching to his left. His calloused thumb lightly swiped against her cheek, fearful of waking her but feeling an odd pull to comfort her in some way.  
A shuddering breath escaped her lips,a light almost unnoticeable “Jaime” along with it.

He recoiled quickly in fear that he’d been caught lurking in her tent while she was sleeping, but realized quickly she hadn’t woken at all. She must’ve been dreaming of him.

A devilish smirk appeared on his face. Oh, in the morning he’d give her hells for dreaming of him. Would he mock her for wanting a golden hand down her breeches? For saving him in a dream, him the damsel and her the manly knight? 

He put a hand to his mouth to stifle a chuckle, and looked to her sleeping form to be sure he wouldn’t wake her. As he remembered her trembling, crying state his jovial mood vanished. He remembered the morning and the tear that had slipped from her blonde lashes. He remembered that the grief that had overtaken her in her sleep was connected to his name.

A frown overtook his face, and he suddenly felt angry. What right did she, this ugly beast, have to make him out to be a monster in her head? If these dreams were the cause of her mood as of late, she certainly shouldn’t be taking it out on him. 

He leaned closer, his face so near hers he could feel the air hitting his face as she exhaled. 

“Brienne,” Jaime spoke in a light voice, not quite a whisper, “wake up.”

She whimpered, a soft I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry repeating from her lips, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides, her body almost convulsing in it’s forceful shaking.

He shook her, then, no longer able to stand seeing her in this manner, embarrassed he’d shown up at all but more concerned with making it stop than anything else.

Her eyes flew open and she would’ve let out a shriek had Jaime not quickly covered her mouth with his hand. His stump of an arm wrapped around her side to hold her steady as she sat up. Sapphire eyes darted around the tent, confused, scared, and sad.

Shushing her, he lifted his hand from her lips and stroked her fine, straw like hair once before delicately cupping her cheek to turn her to him. Their eyes locked.

“Brienne…” Jaime started, “what in the seven hells were you dreaming about?”

Hastily pushing at Jaimes’ chest, Brienne tried to escape the situation, but the frustrating man held her tightly, almost to the point of pain. 

“Brienne.” His voice grew sharper, his empathy and patience for the situation seemed to be waning thin, “you must tell me. It’s affecting our travel, it’s affecting Podrick, it’s affecting me.”  
She couldn’t rip fully from his hold on her, but she could at least avert her gaze.

“Bad dreams. Ser Jaime, I apologize if I’ve done anything to offend. I promise, this will not be an issue in the morning. You can return to your own lodgings.”

“Brienne. What do you take me for? I’m a cripple, not a fool.” His eyes land on the growing purple bags underneath hers. How had he not seen?

He held her there, her shaking ceased and anger began to seep in. Her lack of sleep made an already short temper grow shorter.

“Ser Jaime, please remove yourself from me. I will handle this, and it is none of your concern.”

“It is if I’m the one you dream of,” came his dark reply.

She halted then, and her blood felt like ice creeping into her veins, freezing her in place. His hand had left its place on her face and moved to grip her shoulder roughly, his right arm still wound around her waist. Turning her head slowly, she locked eyes with him.

Spluttering, she frantically tried to dissuade the notion. 

“N-n… no. I was just being wounded in battle, dead before my tasks were complete. It has nothi-”

“Do not lie to me, Brienne,” his already cold eyes sharpened, “my name wouldn’t be coming from your lips if it was just death you were scared of. You wouldn’t shed a tear for a battle, you’ve fought too many and suffered too much. Now tell me the truth.”

She sagged into him, her head on his shoulder, eyes wide. He stiffened completely, out of surprise and likely revulsion.

“I was dying. That’s not a lie. But you, ser Jaime. You were dying too.”

Her head stayed in place, and both of them were too scared of this moment to move an inch. 

“My lady, you probably are going to outlive me in battle. You’re one of the most remarkable fighters in Westeros, and I’m an old man with one hand.”

She scoffed. “Old man my arse.”

He let out an abrupt sharp laugh, and Brienne buried her face further into his shoulder, mortified that she’d spoken in that manner. 

She felt warm, and for a moment hearing him laugh and feeling his heartbeat through his chest made her feel lighter. Some of the dark cloud dissipated and she closed her eyes, willing to lie to herself for a few moments to capture this bliss.

As relaxed as she was in the moment, she had to force herself not to straighten and scramble away when the hand on her shoulder moved round to grip her hair, shifting their bodies so they were more chest to chest. She couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t try to look. She couldn’t bear the mockery that was sure to come.

“And why were you apologizing?” he whispered, “was it your blade that meant my end?”

“No!” She sharply bit, moving back so she could see his face. “Why would I--? No.”

His eyes widened in shock for a moment before turning to confusion. Then why would she be saying ‘I’m sorry?’

“I wasn’t… enough. Every night it’s the same. I take a sword meant for you. Some nights I take the brunt completely, but lately they’ve been driven through us both. I’m sorry I’m not fast enough, not strong enough to save you.”

“Brienne,” he growled, “my life is not worth yours. Stop trying to save my miserable existence at the expense of your own, even in your dreams.”

The hand that had previously been stroking her hair moved to softly trace the line on her neck.

“Ser Jaime, I’d be happy to die protecting what I-” she stopped herself. “Protecting who I care for.”

Her face looked bashful, deep red sinking into her pale skin.She was trembling again, slightly. 

With sudden and intense realization, the Lannister slowly began to speak.

“Like you would die for Pod?” he took a pause, seeming to feel more pained to ask his next question. “Or how you would’ve died for Renly?”

She began to cry again, softly, ashamed.

“Neither, ser, I-” in the middle of her fumbled excuses, Jaime’s lips captured her own. 

She’d only dreamt of being kissed a handful of times, her dreams usually using her self hatred to mock herself in the dark and in the light. But even in her sweetest sleep, it had never once been like this.

He roughly smashed his mouth against hers, hand pressed to the side of her face. Stubble caught and her skin and scratched hotly. His mouth was insistent, warm, demanding. He worked for a short forever, and what could’ve been moments felt like years, but Brienne could not move.

Pulling away, he softly prodded, “Tell me, my lady. Why is it me you dream of at night?”

Again he surged forward and overtook her mouth, but this time she hesitantly responded. He likely had grown needy and weak during their travels, willing to lay with even her to feel the touch of a woman.

It was okay. She would be fine continuing to lie to herself, too.

Unpracticed and stilted, she shifted her mouth along his, leaving a breathy sigh as her hands drifted to rest lightly at the top of his chest. As he felt her start to move with him, he grew more passionate, flicking his tongue deftly into her mouth, moving his right arm lower down her waist, and using his one good hand to grip tightly into her hair as if she’d disappear if he let go.

He pulled until she stumbled into his lap, swinging one leg over so she was straddling him. She felt his cock begin to harden beneath her and she gasped into the harsh kiss. Tears begun to fall once more.

Jaime pulled back from the kiss, affronted that he tasted salt in their kiss, and bucked up against her once. 

“Are you crying because I’m not your precious Baratheon king? Are you crying because even you couldn’t be man-ish enough for his tastes? I’m better than he, you know. At least I’m alive.”

She wanted to reach back her hand and hit him, but he grasped her wrist a an awkward angle, left arm bent to block the blow.

“If you’d die for me, why to you weep to know that I would, too?”

Her anger dissipated, and she uttered a quiet “what?” before looking to him in confusion. 

“Oh, gods, Brienne. Is my mouth against your not enough to convince you?” he leaned closer, to her ear, “is my hardened cock not telling you how much I desire this?” he thrust up in punctuation, “are my words not enough to tell you I want you?”

His eyes met hers, hard once more, but this time more of lust than anger.

“No, no. No. You’re far from home, far from Cercei. Don’t mock me just because you need a quick fuck in the night. Please, don’t…”

Her sentence halted as he pushed her swiftly to the floor, rocking his hips roughly against hers once they met the ground.

“No, you aren’t Cercei. You aren’t soft, or beautiful, or delicate.” His lips drifted to her neck, and he nipped and kissed for a bit before pulling back.

“But you’re loyal,” he lifted her top away and kissed the curve of each small breast.

“You’re brave,” he unlaced her trousers awkwardly with one hand and roughly pulled them down.

“You care,” his mouth meets her wet cunt, a gentle kiss before a firm lick. She bit her knuckle to keep from screaming.

“And your eyes…” he looked up at her, locking his green ones with her blinding blue. He returned to his licking and biting and teasing, and Brienne felt her heart may explode.

“If I were to somehow be loved by you, Brienne, it would be more than a man like me would ever deserve. Beauty is not the only important thing when it comes to the heart.”

He shucked his own clothing before aligning his body with hers once more, kissing her lips so softly, so slowly, and such a contrast from the first that her head spun. She felt his hard length against her, and couldn’t contain the small whimper that came unbidden to her lips.

“My lady, Brienne, may I, please...” 

She nodded once, and he entered her.

Her septa had told her women like her would never find joy in the marriage bed. Losing her maidenhood would be excruciating. She’d likely get to avoid the whole ordeal altogether if she continued to fail at finding a husband.

It hurt, it truly did, for a second or two. Then it just felt like a stretch, a burn, and as Jaime’s hand splayed onto her lower abdomen and he slipped his thumb along her delicate nub, she cried out because this was unabashed pleasure, not at all pain.

Her blunt nails found purchase in his back, urging him forward. Her hips rocked swiftly, wishing for more, more, more. She pulled his head in for a kiss full of teeth and tongue and rough longing. Then her teeth found his neck, and his earlobe, and returned to bite his lip. He only sped up and groaned.

She felt a heat pool in her belly, then explode out in shockwaves throughout her body. She shuddered and convulsed, crying out loudly and clenching tight around Jaime, who hissed and stilled above her, reaching his completion as well. 

Both completely spent, they lay together in her tent, his arm wrapped tightly ‘round her. For a long time, he pressed kisses into her neck and whispered his thanks into her ear until they both slowly started to drift off.

Hopefully, this way, she’d get a reprieve from the darkness of her dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> My first GOT work and my first F/M sex scene. Brienne deserves a better world than she’s got. And she deserves love. Preferably with Jaime.


End file.
